


Saving Grace

by GothicLolita009



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen, Harry Potter - Freeform, Romance, Salem, Severus Snape - Freeform, snape - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicLolita009/pseuds/GothicLolita009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Post-Deathly Hallows. Severus Snape ends up in Salem, at the request of a young woman who is desperate to save her little brother's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Price, Sister Squib?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Before I begin this new fic, I'd like to say, first of all, thanks. To Manda, for her awesome suggestions for making this plot bunny much more interesting. To Angeleye68, Kat and Oddie, for their input and advice. And, of course, to all of you, my lovely readers. Thank you so much for all your feedback, your opinions, and the support you give my work.
> 
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters, locales, etc are property of Warner Bros. And JK Rowling. They are being used without permission and without intent to copyright any material herein.

"I am sorry, Miss Harker," said the Healer with a sympathetic look, "but there is nothing that can be done to help your little brother that has not already been done. Nothing at all. I am afraid all we are able to do is make him more comfortable as he deteriorates. If you wish, I could have him removed to the Hospital..."

"That will not be necessary, thank you, Healer Kilrain," replied the young lady as her hand looped around her brother's, "all Aiden has ever needed is me."

Her long, strawberry blonde braid falling down her shoulder, Grace Harker led her younger brother out of the main part of Salem, down Main Street and away from the Common. Past the twin spires of the Salem Witch Museum, down toward the harbor, where the boats rested like a floating village.

The mostly sleepy town of Salem was unique in its construction. Here, Muggle and Wizarding kind lived almost side by side. While many a traveler knew Salem as the Witch City, even the residents did not know just how true that was.

Hidden among the Muggle witches, those followed the Old Ways, were Wizarding kind.

It was Number 14, Pioneer Street, that the Harkers called home. It was a small row house, and they occupied Apartment 3A. It was a two-bedroom apartment, each room rather small. The kitchen and living area looked in on each other. The furniture had been salvaged from the fire which had orphaned them five years ago.

Since then, Grace had been forced into a sort of combat for survival. A kindly landlady who rented her extra rooms had given them their tiny home, above her own, and allowed them to live there in exchange for the work Grace could do. She looked after them, becoming their legal guardian temporarily. Grace had hoped she would show magic and could take a place at Salem Institute.

She had no magic. She had turned out to be a disgrace to Wizarding kind...a Squib. She had taken her bootstraps, pulled at them firmly, and gave a sharp tug. This led to a job at sixteen in an apothecary shop. It was run by a kindly witch named Marinda Kirk, and her Muggle witch friend Etherian Silver. Together, they ran the Raven's Moon Apothecary, providing not only a variety of herbal concoctions which were brewed on site, but Tarot readings, and other counsel to those who came in seeking advice.

For three years, Grace worked from before the shop opened and long after it closed.

When she returned home one evening in October, near All Hallow's Eve, her cry brought their kindly former guardian to their door.

Aiden, her precious little brother...her dear little brother, the little boy she did everything for, had collapsed in a heap.

When the Muggle physicians could give no explanation for his strange ailment, which only seemed to get progressively worse, Grace took her brother to the Salem Hospital for Magical Ailments. Much like its British counterpart, St. Mungo's, it was concealed in a Muggle building near the city's Common. Over a few weeks, Healer Kilrain attempted every sort of Diagnostic Spell imaginable, administered strange potions, and performed various other magical cures that could be attempted on a boy of his eleven years. All Healer Kilrain could deduce was Aiden's magic was working like a Muggle auto-immune disease...attacking his body from the inside.

Grace brought Aiden home, walking very slowly to accommodate his shorter legs and damaged lungs. She laid him down on his bed, stroking his sandy brown hair, her blue eyes filling with unshed tears.

"Don't cry, Sister," said Aiden with a weary smile, "please...don't be sad for me. I will be all right. I'm sorry for being such a burden."

"Oh, stop," she said, kissing his forehead, "you're no burden to me, Aiden. You're my dear little brother...and I promise...I will do something, anything I can, to help you. You're going to Salem Institute, and you'll be a great wizard. I promise."

The sun was just beginning to set over Salem Harbor, and while Aiden rested at home, Grace walked along the pier, tears stinging her eyes.

"Please...someone...help," she half-whimpered to the empty pier, the street beside it, and even the tall three-masted ship which was part of the Park display. Taking out her handkerchief, she dabbed at the tears, not noticing one drop to the ground.

"Why do you cry, young lady?" a small but distinctly male voice asked from her right, near where her tear had fallen a few moments ago. She let out a gasp as she looked down.

Standing at about her knee's height was a young man. He was dressed in a simple matching tunic and leggings of a pretty blue. What appeared to be a small pair of wings arched from his shoulder-blades, making Grace blink; she was not sure she had seen them. His violet, cat-slit eyes sparkled like his pointed teeth as he smiled at her and ran a hand through his tousled white hair.

"I—who are you?" she asked, strangely calm in the face of this new being which appeared to have emerged from her very tears.

"Robin," he said clearly, bowing with a flourish. "I saw your tears from beyond the Veil, and I want to know why you cry."

His voice was soft, kind, and musical. Grace watched as he came to hover in front of her, taking a place on a stone bench along the pier. In a sad voice, she told him her story...everything she had been through, and of her brother's plight.

"Well," mused Robin, "it sounds as if you, young lady, are in quite a predicament. You have no magic...and even the best Healers in this city cannot seem to help him. I see an empty chair by the hearth rug, and a bed without an owner in a short time, if things remain as they are."

"He's my brother!" declared Grace fiercely, angry tears filling her blue eyes, "I will fight to save him. No matter what."

The three words Robin had waited to hear.

""No...matter...what,"...hm?" he asked, looking at Grace critically, as if gauging whether she truly meant what she had said.

"Yes," she said, "I will do anything I can to save him."

The fae chuckled to himself. This was too rich, too good to be true.

"Very well," he said, casting his mind back, through the years, "there is, believe it or not, someone who can save your brother's life. A Master of Potions, far across the sea. His name is..."

"How can I find him?"

Robin stopped, tampering down the irritation which threatened to rise and make him snap at the young woman in front of him. She did not appear to be a girl without manners, and put it down to the situation as he went on.

"Buried, dear child. Dead and buried some...ten years ago."

"You're cruel, Robin," snapped Grace bitterly, "why did you make me think he was living?"

" _You_ did not let me finish. And, before I was interrupted so, I was about to give you his name. It is Severus Snape."

The fae sounded offended, and Grace lowered her head, murmuring an apology. She had of course heard of Snape, albeit in the way of some vague historical figure. He had been one of best Potions Masters of his time...and also one of the most infamous characters of the Wizarding War.

"He could live again. I'm a fae, remember? Time and space mean nothing to me. If you wish, I...could...restore him to life, and bring him to you. But for a price, young lady. A price."

"What is it?"

She recoiled a little as Robin looked her over, studying her quizzically. She was not exactly strikingly beautiful, but there was something in her manner and presence which compelled him. His cat-like gaze was somewhat unnerving, as intense as it was interesting and beautiful.

"Your gift," he finally said, "the one thing which you hold dear. Your voice, little Grace. Your voice, for the life of your brother. Take it, or leave it."

Nibbling at her bottom lip, the girl considered the offer. Her brother was her world, the one person she had in this life to cling to. Could she give up singing...the one thing that belonged to her? Each Saturday, she went to the Witch's Brew Cafe...to In A Pig's Eye...even Salem Common...and performed. As often as not, she would sing. She was sometimes given a second-glance at the apothecary, when someone recognized her at the girl with her violin and the pretty voice of a Sunday. She knew there were whispers she could go far, if she weren't saddled with that little brother of hers.

"Well? What say you?" asked Robin, seeing her indecision.

"Agreed," she said, "let the bond be sealed."

"Very well then, Sister Squib," declared the fae with a little smirk, "look to the Moon, and sing."

Turning her eyes out onto the moon, which rose beautifully over the harbor, Grace let her voice ring out over the waters. Robin reached out, listening to the sweet, harmonious notes which flowed from her throat. It was a voice that was untrained, yet with a purity and clarity he had only heard in the exalted halls of the Faerie Queen herself. Or so he mused as the notes formed a silver orb in his hand, becoming trapped in a conjured crystal. It was a moment before he spoke again.

"Very well," he said, "your part of the bargain is fulfilled, little Grace," said Robin to the now silent young woman, "it is time for me to fulfill mine. Go home now, to your little brother, for whom you sacrificed so much. By sunrise, the one man who can help you will be here."


	2. The Potions Master, Redeux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape is presented with little Aiden Harker and his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just as a note, for the rest of this fic, all of Grace's writing will be in all caps or italics for the sake of making it stand out. As always, your feedback and suggestions are ALWAYS welcome.

Robin traveled, in the way of the Fae, back through time. The smell of death and decay hit his nostrils as he arrived at his destination. Hogsmeade, Wizarding Britian...a ramshackle place which looked as if it would break down.

It was into this place that he made his way. Lying on the ground in a pool of blood was the man he sought.

Alone. Broken and battered. Just, at the moment, how the fae needed him to be. His life thread was short; another breath, maybe two, and he would be no more.

"Can't have that, now can we, Snape," he murmured, and the next thing his quarry knew, they were wandering through the streets of Salem.

"This is clearly...not...beyond the Veil, or anything close to it," was the first thing Snape said when he had regained his senses. Pressing his still-bloody fingers to his neck, he felt no wound...only the scars where Nagini had pierced him. Confusion dueled with agitation for a long moment on his features, before the sky began to lighten with the dawn.

"Hello, Severus Snape," said Robin with a smirk, "and welcome to Salem—yes, it's _that_ Salem. The year is 2008. There's a young lady, living just down the street, who needs help. And it's help only you can provide. I made a contract with her, and I brought you here. She lives in number 3A. Enjoy. Oh—and one more thing; she gave up something pretty important to bring you here, so be nice, okay?"

"Now wait one..."

But before he was able to say anything more, Robin had left him before Number 14 Pioneer Street, and disappeared. Snape decided to make the best of the situation, taking a moment to examine his reflection in a window.

He looked a sight. His collar was stained with blood, his black hair tousled, robes dusty. Well, contract or whatever, if Severus Snape was going to go and request assistance from this girl, he was not going to look like something Mrs. Norris had brought in. That was decided instantly.

Attempting to brush the dust from his robes, he reached for his wand...and was unable to find it.

"Bloody Fae," he muttered, and concentrated on a simple purging charm. The dust at least, was gone from his robes, and he straightened them. His hair was straightened, and the blood stain was...mostly...gone. He entered the main hall of the house, going quietly up the stairs to the apartment marked 3A.

As Robin had promised, the door flung open to reveal a girl roughly half his age. Her eyes were red from crying, hair tousled from sleep. But it did not look like she had gotten much of that. Her skin was fair, but not deathly pale, and her eyes were a pretty shade of blue...watery blue which reminded him of the water just outside on a sunny day.

For a moment, she looked up at him, blinking, her sleepy head falling to one side. She was light-haired, he could see, perhaps blonde. Her hair fell, sleep-tousled, past her shoulders.

"Perhaps," he began, "I should introduce myself, Miss. I am Severus Snape."

The girl needed no further provocation. She quickly gestured for him to come inside. It looked as if she would take his hand, but refrained...why he did not know.

The little apartment which he was shown into reminded him of what The Burrow might look like, if it were smaller. The furniture was slip-covered to look nicer, the wood scuffed but polished clean, the range in the kitchen sparkling. Snape became aware that while hardly a spacious place, the apartment had an air of quiet dignity in its light scent of lemon and vinegar.

The girl gestured to a comfortable chair near the hearth, and he sat as she turned on a few lights. She looked at him, and then back at herself, remembering she was in her nightdress. She flushed a dusky rose, raised up a single finger, and dashed into one of the bedrooms. After a few moments, she had reemerged in Muggle clothing; a simple pain of jeans and a non-descriptive shirt in a pretty shade of green.

For a moment, the man and the young woman looked at each other...blue and black meeting in a clash of gazes.

"That impertinent creature whose help you have apparently enlisted informed me rather tersely that you require my assistance," said Snape with far more patience than he felt, "so—I advise you, Miss, to elaborate, as he appears to have left you to do so."

The girl looked at him, shrugging a little, and shaking her head.

"Are you _attempting_ to annoy me—or are you incapable of speech?" he asked her at last.

The girl quirked an eyebrow, and looked at him as if he were dense. Agitation rising more and more in the Potions Master every moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed.

"Very well," he went on after a moment, "since you are, in fact, incapable of speech, the first order of business should be to find a means of communication. I assume you are capable of writing and reading? You don't seem entirely uneducated."

She shot him a glare, as if she were offended at his suggestion, and made a noise which sounded like a huff as she rose from her chair. In a few moments, she had returned bearing a large piece of what appeared to be paper at first. It was white, but as she set it up like an artist's easel, Snape was even more confused than ever.

"And just _what_ , pray, is _that_?" he asked in a mixture of incredulity and agitation.

With a marker, the girl began to write. Her hand was neat, and she printed. She then stepped to the side, so he would be able to read her message.

WHITEBOARD. AKA, COM-MUNI-CAT-ION AIDE.

While her little insult to his intelligence did nothing to endear her to him, Snape found himself strangely drawn to and amused by this young woman, who was now erasing her first message, looking at him with a question in her eyes.

"Very well," he acknowledged "now, I ask again, do tell me what this business is all about."

The reply took her a little while to write.

MY LITTLE BROTHER, AIDEN, IS VERY SICK. ROBIN SAID YOU COULD HELP HIM. NO HEALER IN SALEM HAS BEEN ABLE TO DO ANYTHING EXCEPT TELL ME HE IS GOING TO DIE. HE IS JUST ELEVEN. I CAN'T LOSE HIM.

When she stepped aside and faced him again, Snape caught the worry and sadness in her face and eyes. His interest piqued. So...she had a younger brother who was quite ill...and she had brought _him,_ from the verge of Death as he was, because she felt that he could succeed where Healers had failed?

"Very well," he said, "describe the malady as best you are able, please."

THE HEALERS SAY THAT IT'S LIKE LUPUS. AIDEN'S BODY IS BEING ATTACKED FROM THE INSIDE. THEY HAVE TRIED EVERYTHING. I ASKED ROBIN TO BRING YOU HERE SO YOU COULD SAVE HIM.

Snape considered the young boy's plight. He was of course aware of Lupus and its crippling nature on those who suffered from the disease. The boy should be going to school, not suffering.

"Is the cause of this malady magical?" he inquired in an almost bored tone.

THAT'S WHAT THE HEALERS SAY. AIDEN'S MAGIC IS KILLING HIM.

Snape nodded as he read the young woman's message. He had heard of the disorder. It was quite rare, and often killed witches and wizards who were afflicted much earlier in life. He considered what he had been told, before rising to his feet.

"Young lady," he said at last, "I cannot help but say I admire your courage, tenacity, and determination to save your brother. However, I must say that you were misinformed; I cannot imagine I could help your brother any more than the Healers could. And, if that fae lied to you by informing you otherwise, I am sorry. There is perhaps little, or nothing, I can do to help."

And, turning on his heel, he gave her a nod. He was going to find that fae and give him what for.

"Do excuse me," he said without turning back to face the girl, "but I believe I must set myself to the business of locating that—pest."

As he was preparing to leave, he sensed the object flying at his head. Snapping in a half-turn, he blasted whatever it was she had hurtled at him with a wandless spell. It fell to pieces between them. As he completed the turn, he noticed the object was a rather lovely snow globe. His black eyes followed the shattered mess to the young woman who had thrown it.

Desperation and anger dueled in her expression. She looked at Snape as if he were her last hope. For a long moment they looked at each other, the only sound in the room her tears falling onto the wooden floor. She looked skyward, glaring. The fae appeared with an annoyed sound.

"I never said he knew exactly how to heal him," said Robin with a sigh, "but he will be able to save your brother."

She looked ready to strike the fae, or hurl another blunt object through the room at him. Robin in turn also looked at Snape.

"Well, Snape...aren't you even going to try?" he asked.

For a moment, Snape considered not rising to the challenge. However, he would also not be known as someone who would back down from anyone. Especially an annoying fae. Turning his coolest gaze on the fae, he nodded.

"If I am to attempt _any_ sort of assistance for the boy, I _will_ require my wand, you bloody nuisance," he finally snapped. The girl wheeled on Robin too, glaring almost as angrily as Snape.

"Geez—angry much you two?" he asked, chuckling nervously. With a sigh, he produced Snape's wand, and returned it to him. While the Potion Master's wand practically ached to toss a few hexes at the fae for his trouble, he refrained for the sake of the young lady and her home.

"Evanesco," he finally said, pointing his wand at the watery mess which had been the snow globe.

"As for you, you obnoxious fae," he went on, pointing his wand at Robin, "I don't suppose I have a choice in this matter?"

"Not really," he said, "but—I _could_ always let you go back to being dead."

And with that, he popped out before Snape could think of one of the thousand curses he knew to use on him. For his part, the wizard turned to look at the girl, who was standing near him, eyes watching his movements. With a sigh and infinitely more patience than he felt, he returned his wand to his robes, and regarded the girl again.

"I suppose using what talents I possess to assist your brother would be better than a messy exit," he said at last, "but, if we are to become allies, I suppose it would be best to begin with introductions. You, Miss, have the advantage of me in that department."

The young woman nodded in acknowledgment, and wrote on the board.

MY NAME IS GRANUILLE.

He repeated the Irish name incredulously, one eyebrow raising. He heard her write again.

GRACE. GRACE HARKER.

"Grace," he said, testing the name, before smirking a little, "hardly a name I would choose for such a...spirited young lady as yourself, Miss Harker."

The girl smirked back at him. And Grace Harker put out her hand to Severus Snape, who accepted it. With a firm handshake, the partnership was formed.


	3. The Examination of Aiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape meets Aiden Harker, and sees exactly what he is in for.

There was a little finagling that had to be done, now that Snape was for all intents and purposes, a resident of Apartment 3A. Grace's brain set to work almost at once on settling these logistical challenges.

THERE ARE ONLY TWO BEDS RIGHT NOW she wrote.

"The couch," murmured Snape, "should be suitable for a temporary repose. It is certainly better than my last."

A little snort was the only indicator Grace Harker was amused at his statement. She laughed for a moment, before collecting herself and cleaning off the whiteboard with an eraser.

ARE YOU HUNGRY? DO YOU WANT SOMETHING TO EAT? DRINK?

Snape mused over the inquiry, before nodding his reply.

"Is there tea?" he asked.

YES. AND I THINK WE HAVE SOME BACON AND EGSS, IF YOU WANT.

"That would be suitable," he said finally, falling back into the chair near the hearth. He drifted off for a few moments while Grace clambered about the kitchen. The smell of cooking food made Snape's mouth water and stomach growl. It felt like ages since he'd had any sort of nourishment.

After breakfast was completed, and Snape was on his second cup of a very nice Earl Grey, he watched Grace go into the bedroom, where he assumed young Aiden would be. She carried a tray of food, and returned in a few moments empty-handed.

"Miss Harker," said Snape at last, "I shall set myself to examine your brother after he has eaten. In the interval, however, I hope you will indulge one or two questions which I would very much like answered."

Grace nodded her assent, taking up the black marker which was her line to the world.

"Firstly, I was told this is the year 2008?"

Grace nodded.

"And, since the world has not come to complete and utter ruin, I assume the Wizarding War in Britain against the Dark Lord was a success?"

She nodded again, turning to the board.

THE WAR ENDED TEN YEARS AGO, GIVE OR TAKE A FEW MONTHS. VOLDEMORT WAS DEFEATED BY HARRY POTTER. LAST I HEARD, THERE WAS STILL A DEBATE OVER WHAT SIDE YOU WERE ON.

"I see," said Snape with a nod, "and—I would assume, everyone believes that I am dead?"

I GUESS SO she wrote, BUT I DON'T KNOW FOR SURE. EVERYONE HERE THINKS YOU ARE, ANYWAY.

The information was satisfactory for the moment, and Snape nodded again.

"Are you yourself not a witch?" he asked.

Grace shook her head, cleaned the board, and wrote.

I'M A SQUIB.

She met his eyes with a certain amount of defiance, as if daring him to make a snide comment about her status.

"That is unfortunate," said Snape, "but only in the respect you will not be as much assistance in your brother's treatment as I had hoped you might be. Your declaration, such as it is, makes no difference to me otherwise. I think, I should like to examine your brother, if now is a convenient time."

Grace nodded, and led Snape into her brother's sick room. It was as cheery as she could make it, with a window partly open to let in the gentle early-morning air off the harbor. It smelled deliciously of sea water. The room was painted a deep blue, with matching covers on the small bed where Aiden was resting.

Snape took a moment to regard the room, and the boy. The room was small; enough for a chair, desk, bookshelf, and a bed. Aiden himself was propped up on several pillows, glancing idly out at the window, his breakfast only about half finished.

"Oh...hello, Sister," said the sandy-haired boy, his brown eyes sparkling. Grace smiled lovingly down at him, reaching out a hand to stroke his hair before kissing his forehead. Aiden's eyes soon fell on the man beside his sister.

"Um...hello," he said, "who are you?"

"A friend, young man," he said calmly, taking the chair and coming to sit before the boy. Steepling his fingers, he looked at Aiden. He was rather thin for his age, and small, but his eyes were bright. He could use a bit more color, mused the Potions Master.

"Sister...who is this?" he asked Grace, looking nervously at her.

"It would be best if you do not hurl repetitive questions at your sister, young Aiden," said Snape, "she has a terrible case of laryngitis, I am afraid. Possibly permanent. I am here at your sister's invitation, because she believes I can help you to get better. Is that enough explanation for you?"

The boy nodded, and Snape came to kneel at his bedside, looking at him.

"Now then," he said, as if he were addressing a First-Year, "I should like to make a full physical examination of you, boy. Any objections?"

His voice was calm, even soothing, as he spoke. Aiden shook his head.

"Very well, then," replied Snape, and looked over to the silent young lady who was watching him intently.

"Miss Harker, I should be appreciative if you allow me a few moments alone with the boy. It would be probably be best if you were not present for the examination."

At her critical and dubious look, he went on.

"I assure you, Miss Harker...if I wanted to harm the boy at all, I would have already done it. If you wish me to help him, you must allow me a free hand."

From her look, Grace seemed to understand the implied nuance of his statement. Her nod was her answer.

_I trust you._

About an hour later, Grace looked up from her dishes as she heard Snape emerge from Aiden's room.

"I will not offer you false hope, Miss Harker," he said at last, "the odds are not entirely in your brother's favor. However, I shall promise to do whatever is in my power to bring him around."

Grace smiled and nodded, sniffling a little. She turned to write on the board.

THANK YOU.

While Grace went out on a mysterious errand, Snape availed himself of the surprisingly comfortable sofa for a few hours, allowing himself to turn the situation over in his mind at last. The thought at last occurred to him that he was free. There was no more Dumbledore giving him orders, no more Dark Lord to call him with the Mark that had been branded into his arm. On a whim, he undid his sleeve, pulling it up to examine his left forearm. The Mark was still there, but significantly faded. It was as if it had been a tattoo that had undergone some laser removal. Pulling his sleeve back down and buttoning it, Snape sighed.

For years, spying and lying, concealment and subterfuge, had been his _modus operandi_. The fact he was no longer required to do any of things left him a little disoriented and, perhaps, even a little lost.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Snape fell into something of a peaceful sleep. He was soon awoken by a light shaking of his shoulder. Aiden was hovering over him, looking a little weary.

"Mister?" he asked with uncertainty, "I'm hungry."

Rising from the couch, Snape looked around. Grace was still nowhere to be seen.

"Very well, boy," he said calmly, "return to your bed...I suppose I can find something here for you. And you may call me Sir."

"Yes, sir...thank you."

And in a sweep of black robes, Snape went into the kitchen. From the meager offerings, he managed to produce a suitable lunch for Aiden, and delivered it to him. After seeing to it the boy ate as much as he was able, he attended to the dishes before turning his pondering to Aiden's malady.

It would be a dangerous cocktail, most likely, that the Potions Master would first need to obtain the ingredients for, and then actually produce. He would need to refresh his memory on what would be needed.

That, of course, would mean a trip to Salem Institute. He set his mind to the problem of getting access to what more than likely would be difficult-to-obtain books. Perhaps that blasted fae could be of some help, but he somehow doubted it. Any contacts which might be of any help whatever were ten years or more out of date. With a sigh, he supposed he could confer with Grace, when she returned.

After another hour or so of waiting, Grace did in fact return. She carried a large bag in her arms, which went into her brother's room. She attempted to wave at Snape as she passed, but only succeeded in nearly dropping her large bundle. After a few moments, she came out into the main room, where the white board was, writing.

I GOT A FUTON TODAY, SO I CAN SLEEP IN MY BROTHER'S ROOM. YOU CAN HAVE MY ROOM. I CHANGED THE SHEETS AND AIRED THINGS OUT.

"Miss Harker," said Snape when he had read her message, "I do not intend to deprive you of your bed. And, if I recall, I believe I was clear in stating the couch was quite sufficient."

Her reply was terse, and accompanied by a glare to rival his.

IF YOU KNEW WHAT I WENT THOUGH TO GET THAT FUTON, YOU'D THINK DIFFERENT.

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Honestly, the girl was infuriating.

"Very well," he said at last, "I shall inspect the room."

Grace's room was a nice, noncommittal shade of green. The window opened out onto the harbor, letting in the sea breeze. There was a desk and chair, collections of books, and a bed. Mercifully, the room was not decorated in girlish trappings in any sense of the word.

"I suppose," he said, "this will work nicely."

And then she pointed to a pile of clothes which rested on the bed. Muggle clothing. He eyed them dubiously, but sighed and waved the girl out of the room which had become his.

Sitting quietly in the main room that night, Snape watched Aiden and Grace play a quiet game of cards. He had been asked to join, but declined, content instead to watch the younger folk. When Aiden wearied, Grace helped him to bed, making sure he fell asleep before returning to their guest.

"I will need access to some, at the best, questionable material at Salem Institute," he said to Grace after a while.

She smirked, and wrote.

DON'T WORRY. I HAVE A PLAN.

Snape sighed.

"Somehow," he said "that does _not_ reassure me, Miss Harker."


	4. Salem Institute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of many research visits; also In Which Grace Harker Proves She is Not a Dunderhead

The next morning after breakfast, Grace and Snape made their way through the streets of Salem. Aiden was left with the kindly landlady. In Grace's bag was a new portable whiteboard made of melamine.

Stifling a yawn, Grace meandered into a little shop just off Congress Street, which she had said made excellent coffee.

I DON'T TOUCH THE COFFEE, BUT YOU CAN TRY SOME IF YOU WANT, she wrote at Snape, who nodded his assent. They were soon armed with a dark roast blend and a heady cup of English Breakfast and walking toward Salem Common. On the way, Grace pointed out some of the more interesting landmarks of the city in the early morning light. Snape looked at each with interest, asking Grace a question or two as was necessary.

Salem Institute was at the Northern end of Salem Common, designed as a Muggle building. It was under the guise of a dignified preparatory school, and one of the most influential in Wizarding America.

At the gates was an elderly lady, who looked to be much older than Snape. Her grey hair was twisted up into an elegant bun, and she looked to be wearing one of her better robes.

"There you two are," she said with a smile, blinking for a split second. For a moment, alarm bells rang in Snape's mind; was it possible she had recognized him? His first impulse was to draw his wand, but he instead would allow the situation to play out as it would. Grace trusted him with her brother's life, now he too had trusted her with his.

"Madame," said Snape, giving a little bow as they approached.

"Call me Mrs. Kirk, if you must," she said "Grace has told me about your needs. Just follow me you two. Stay close."

Snape raised an eyebrow at Grace, who merely followed after Mrs. Kirk. They went through the halls of the Institute as if they owned the place, finding the Library.

"Good morning," she said to the junior clerk on duty, "my friends here need access to the Restricted Stacks."

"Sorry ma'am," he said as he eyed the lady nervously "but policy states-"

"Now just you look here young man," began Mrs. Kirk "do you have _any_ idea who this is your are speaking to? Why, this is the great Healer Russell Jameson Gottesrich Sigismond Von Prince! One of the most prominent Healers of his time! Now you just let us through there."

And without another word, she swept her companions through to the Restricted Stacks. Snape blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, smirking a little.

"Madame," he said "do remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Think nothing of it, dear boy," she said, leaving them at a bare table "now—you two do what you need to do. I'll make arrangements for your return. Can only bluster through like that once, you know."

And with a sweep of her robes, she was gone.

"Your friend is quite formidable, Miss Harker. I must admit, I underestimated your abilities for a moment."

Smirking, Grace gave him a mock bow, and began looking about the stacks. For a moment, he watched her, seeing her wonder at so many books filled with often Dark knowledge. The seedier side of magic, to be sure. But it did not seem to intimidate or frighten her. In fact, quite the opposite. She appeared to have a voracious love of knowledge which had not been obvious to him at first.

"Do you enjoy being locked up with a bunch of dusty old books?" he asked, not hiding his amusement.

She nodded, her eyes glittering, her face lit up. Snape reached over, giving them a bit more light to see by. After a few moments, the lady called Mrs. Kirk returned with a couple of laminated badges in her hand.

"There you are," she said "I guess you'll be needing to come here more than a few times, so here are some passes for you. Oh—and if anyone is to ask, you're my nephew, dear boy."

While it irked Snape that she had the effrontery to refer to him as, "dear boy", he guessed he didn't mind so much, seeing as Mrs. Kirk was not a witch he wanted to be on the wrong side of. He watched her leave them to their work, before turning to Grace.

"I believe," he said "we shall begin with _Most Potente Potions_ , Miss Harker."

After three hours sitting in the Restricted Stacks, Snape finally carefully unfolded himself, stretching the muscles which had grown tense being hunched over books. Grace had been an admirable assistant, fetching books and attempting to follow Snape's train of thought as he muttered to himself over the texts, making notes in the book Grace had provided for him. It was Muggle-style, but it was the best that could be done for the moment.

"Miss Harker," he said, "I believe that we should both attempt to acquire some form of nourishment before we continue along this path. Is there a place where we might obtain such a thing?"

Grace considered a moment, and nodded. Leaving their books and a note saying they would return, the pair set off for lunch.

The afternoon passed very much like the morning. Snape went on ahead to continue the research while Grace hurried home to attend to Aiden and spend some time with him. She joined him a couple of hours later.

"You will be pleased to know, I have made some progress while you were away," was the first thing he said when he sensed her return. She smiled at him, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was reading.

As the sun was setting, Grace and Snape put away their books, making notes of the titles as they did so. The set of books in the Restricted Stacks was extensive, and as an academic, Snape was quite pleased with the day's results.

That evening was a quiet affair. For once, Aiden felt well enough to be at table, and he ate with his sister and the man he was now able to call "Mr. Prince."

While Grace attended to the dishes in the kitchen, Snape turned to his notes, examining them. He had read several case studies of disorders which mimicked Aiden's. Most of the young witches and wizards did not survive. Aiden's magic had not begun to manifest itself but a little at best since the age of eight. And the attempt to control or use his magic had left the boy feeling much as he did now.

As he looked over the list of materials he would need, then at the house, he sighed.

"Phoenix tears...essence of asphodel...blood from a Flabbersnich...oh, yes. Little Miss Harker will most _assuredly_ be able to purchase these items with whatever salary she might possess," he muttered to himself sarcastically.

He heard a shuffling of feet. Grace came into the room in a thin cotton dressing gown, braiding her strawberry blonde hair as she sat down near her white board, looking at her guest quizzically.

"Miss Harker," he said "I don't suppose you happen to have several thousand Galleons hidden under the floorboards, do you?"

The girl shook her head.

WE'RE ORPHANS. MY FATHER WAS KILLED IN A FIRE FIVE YEARS AGO. MY MOTHER DIED IN THE WIZARDING WAR ACROSS THE POND.

The expression she had used was new, but not unfamiliar to the Potions Master. However, the problem of how to obtain the necessary tools and ingredients for the potion irked him far more than he thought it would be able to. Without even realizing it, he had become invested in the young woman and her little brother.

The problem bothered Snape even at he tried to sleep that night. It was either very late, or very early, before Morpheus found him.

An insistent knocking roused him from his early-morning meditations. He had been mostly unable to sleep, and turned his mind instead to quieting itself, which was almost as good.

There was no stirring from the room next door, so Snape went to answer it, revealing the charming Mrs. Kirk, a basket in her hand.

"Good morning, dear boy," she said, and blustered past him into the kitchen, where the basket came to reside.

"Good morning, Madame," he said "unfortunately...both Miss Harker and her brother are still abed at the moment. Was there something you needed?"

"Yes," replied the old witch, regarding the Potions Master with a critical eye "and we don't need to wake little Grace or dear Aiden. It's _you_ I want."

Somehow, the thought did not seem to calm Snape as she plunged into her basket. She pulled out some Muggle clothes, holding them up against him.

"There," she said, handing him a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, "that'll go quite well together."

"For what, may I ask?"

"Breakfast, m'boy. I intend to take all of you out to breakfast, and then the apothecary. Etherian won't be in today, and I could use an extra pair or two of hands, if you could help."

"I am afraid someone must be available to stay with the boy," replied Snape calmly, "so, I am afraid I must decline."

"Nonsense," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, "I am sure that Hettie can watch the boy. He's a lamb, he is. And she knows the number of the shop, in case you or Grace need to return."

Apparently, the lady was going to have an answer for every protest he could think of. Nodding his assent, he went to put on the new Muggle clothing he had been given. Before rejoining Mrs. Kirk in the kitchen, he quietly opened the door to look in on his young charge and his sister.

Aiden slept peacefully in his little bed. His breathing appeared to be a little labored, but not enough to cause him distress. On the floor and on her futon was Grace. She slept deeply, her hair falling about her like a cascade of ribbon.

It was, all in all, a beautiful scene.

Closing the door on the siblings, Snape went to join Mrs. Kirk, who had made coffee and was pouring a pair of cups.

"Grace has been a really wonderful assistant," she said "and her little brother...such an angel-boy. Their father was a Muggle, you know. Took his poor Eleana's death very hard. Grace has been the strong one; like her mother, you know."

"I was unaware," he murmured as he sipped at the excellent coffee, "Miss Harker has told me nothing of her family life before I arrived. I did not ask."

"Oh, they were a charming family, the Harkers," murmured Marinda Kirk as she added a bit more cream to her coffee "William, their father, was as good a man as a witch could ever hope to find. Oh, and Eleana...as lovely as any girl who ever went through Salem Institute. The girl has her mother's eyes, you know. Caused a bit of a stir, Eleana did, when she married William Harker; she being from a good Wizarding family, and he from Muggle stock."

"If Miss Harker's mother came from a prominent Wizarding family in Salem...did they not seek the children out after the death of their daughter?"

"Eleana gave up whatever rights she had to her family's estate when she married William. He was one of the few Muggles who only loved her the more when he discovered her secret. She was always headstrong, was Eleana; she got that from her father. He disinherited her the very same day she married."

Snape turned the information which had been shared over in his mind. The story was not unlike that of his own mother, Eileen.

 _'And in the end,'_ he thought ruefully, ' _it it always the children who suffer.'_

"Grace has been a very good girl," went on Mrs. Kirk "she has never gotten into a scrap of trouble to speak of, and always looks to her brother, even before herself. Why, I remember last Winter, she sold off some of her father's prized books to buy food and blankets for herself and Aiden, and gave him the best of everything. She loves that boy as if she were his mother, and not his sister; but then, I suppose it had to be that way when Eleana was killed."

"Miss Harker mentioned that her mother was unfortunate enough to be a causality of the Wizarding War in Britian."

"Yes. Aiden was little more than a babe in arms when Eleana heard from her cousins in England that the War was going badly for them. She arranged for a ticket and a flight to join them. She was, as I understand, killed in what they have called the Battle of Hogwarts."

Snape knew of the battle, all too well, and nodded.

A shuffling of feet announced the conversation was no longer private. A sleepy-eyed Grace came into the kitchen, looking between the two adults quizzically.

"Ah—good morning, Grace dear," said Mrs. Kirk brightly "get yourself ready, and Aiden too...we're off to breakfast."

Snape caught Grace's anguished eyes as she nodded and trundled off, wondering how much the girl had heard.


	5. A Quiet Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of several miracles in the fight to save Aiden.

After breakfasting with Mrs. Kirk, the residents of Apartment 3A went their separate ways. Grace went to drop Aiden off at home, while Snape set out with the whirlwind known as Marinda Kirk to the Raven's Moon Apothecary.

It was a well-organized establishment, mused Snape as the lady opened up the shop. The tinctures, potions, and orders for the day were neatly put into baskets by last name. The bottles of oils, baskets of whole ginger and clove, and the various other needful things for a reputable herb shop were all displayed in a pleasing fashion.

"Now then," said Marinda, "take what you need from the shelves, dear boy. I am sure that your time in the stacks yesterday accomplished _something_."

"Madame," he said "while your offer is a generous one..."

"Oh, please, spare me the noble, 'I don't wish to take help from anyone,' bit, dear boy. There is a young boy that is sick, and at home in bed, instead of going to Salem Institute. Besides, it's my prerogative; Grace has been like a daughter to me. So you just take what you need, and let's not say anything to the dear girl."

Snape sighed, muttered something under his breath, and began to peruse the shelves quickly. The bell of the shop rang, and Grace came in, dressed for work. Snape was just allowing the generous Mrs. Kirk to slip his purchases under the counter for collection later.

"Right then," said Marinda as Grace came in, "time to get to work, you two. I suppose, _Russell_ , I can rely on you to assist me in front today? Grace said you're well-versed in Potions, so this should be second nature to you. Just if I end up being called into the Tarot area. Would that suit?"

"I suppose it would, Madame," replied the Potions Master smoothly.

"Good. Then let's begin."

The morning was fairly quiet. Marinda was called into the Tarot Room a few times, and Snape easily found and distributed the orders for those who came to pick them up. One customer noticed Grace in the back, where she was grinding herbs with oil.

"There she is!" he said "that pretty-voiced girl who sings at the Witch's Brew on Saturdays. She's wonderful. Say there, girl, when are you-"

"C'mon, Bill," said the other man with him "don't shout at her right now...she's working."

And the two men left the shop. Snape turned to look at Grace, who was trying to pretend she had not heard. There was a look of deep sadness in her eyes which was not lost on Snape. It was an all-too familiar sight to him.

For a moment, it was like looking in a mirror.

When afternoon came around, Marinda went to procure a small lunch for their little group, leaving Grace and Snape to hold down the shop. He finally turned to her.

"You did not tell me you were a singer once," he said, his tone gentle.

Grace reached for the whiteboard.

IT DOESN'T MATTER. WHAT MATTERS IS MY BROTHER. MY VOICE WAS A SMALL PRICE TO PAY FOR THAT.

"Not so small," he countered.

Grace sighed, and penned another reply.

ALL RIGHT—FOR ME, IT WAS A BIG PRICE TO PAY. BUT SMALL WHEN I THOUGHT OF LOSING MY BROTHER. HE'S ALL I HAVE ANYMORE. I WILL NOT LOSE HIM. NOT IF I CAN STOP IT.

Snape was able to feel the passion behind's the girl's words, her stubborn resolve.

"In another time and place," he said "you would have made a fine Gryffindor."

Grace smirked and gave him a mock nod of superiority, going back to her work.

Afternoon moved into evening, and with it came low rumbles of thunder from off the bay which was not that far from them.

"Storm is coming," said Mrs. Kirk "better close up shop, everyone. Grace, I don't need to see you tomorrow...just be sure to drop in and get your pay."

The girl nodded, and followed Snape out the door. The two of them hurried down the streets of the city in wake of the storm which was threatening to drench them. Snape could smell the rain in the air, and he somehow knew intrinsically Grace could smell the rain as well.

Too late. Snape was grateful for the plastic bag which protected his vital ingredients. The rain fell in large drops around them. Grace's strawberry blonde hair began to come out of its braid. Mercifully, they did not have that far to travel, and the kindly Hettie the Landlady had warm towels waiting for the pair to dry off with.

"I've gotten Aiden fed, dear...so you take the evening off and just relax, all right?"

Grace smiled and thanked Hettie as much as she could before handing the towels back to her and went up to their apartment.

Stretched out on his bed that evening, Snape looked at the ingredients he had purchased, rejudging their quality. He was indeed pleased with them, he decided.

By sundown, the rain had escalated into a full-blown storm. Lightning flashed across the window, rain pelted the glass, and thunder rumbled over their heads. Snape was mostly asleep when there was an uncertain tap at his door during a brief lull in the storm.

"Miss Harker?" asked Snape wearily, noting the height of the shadow was too tall to be Aiden, and too small to be the enigmatic Mrs. Kirk. The little light from his wand revealed it to be the girl. A look of utter terror was on her pale face, her blue eyes wide with fear.

"Miss Harker?" he asked again, when another loud rumble of thunder half-drove her, shaking, to the bed and under the covers. Coming to sit on the bed beside her, Snape gently pulled the blankets down from over her head.

"Do thunderstorms frighten you this much?" he asked her. She nodded emphatically.

Confused, and unsure of what to do, Snape gently placed a hand on Grace's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her felt her tense frame relax, her aura calm. The hand on her shoulder reached out to rest on her head, and he gave her a gentle pat. Her hair was soft, like the plumage of a bird, and her eyes opened. She looked up at him, eyes drifting to her shelves.

"Reading?" he asked "would that calm you, Miss Harker?"

The girl nodded.

Searching his memory, Snape found a poem which he memorized early in life, and still knew by heart. His voice wrapped itself around the girl as he recited. He felt her finally calm down as she listened, her eyes beginning to droop. She was asleep when he looked down at her again.

Creeping from the room with a pillow, Snape stretched himself out on the couch. At least until the thunder started back again.

The thunderstorm that night was forgotten in the morning, when sunlight and birdsong returned to Salem. The smell of cooking roused Snape from his place on the couch. Grace was at the range, breakfast forming under her hands.

She did not need to say anything. When she looked at him, her glittering blue eyes said everything which was in her mind.

Obsidian and blue did not linger on each other much longer, after they said what they were thinking.

After breakfast, Grace and Snape went back to the Restricted Stacks at Salem Institute. Their reception was certainly much different than it was before. "Mr. Prince" was greeted with a hearty welcome, and Grace merely rode on his proverbial coattails into the library.

The morning passed quietly and much like their first morning in the stacks. Grace brought lunch; sandwiches and some treats from Mrs. Kirk. He also heard the jingling of Galleons in her pocket.

"Payday," he said with a smirk "is always a good day."

Grace went on ahead of Snape, who stayed behind a few more hours to continue the research. There was, of course, also the problem of obtaining the most expensive of the ingredients. He would be unable to start the potion without them.

As he came into the door, the first thing which hit Snape was the radical change in the demeanor of the occupants of Apartment 3A. Grace was smiling ear to ear, and Aiden whooping and carrying on as much as he dared.

"And just what has happened to cause such an uproar here?" he asked over the loud Boccherini piece playing. Grace turned the volume down, handing Snape a large package. It was addressed to him.

"I hardly imagine that this...package...is the cause of such jubilation."

The note was clearly readable.

_This was left in my possession by your mother. Use it well._

Snape opened the box, revealing a small fortune in Galleons. Far more than was necessary to pay for the remaining ingredients he would need.

"Miss Harker?"

At Snape's tone, Grace stopped, looking at him questioningly.

"Do you know who left this?"

Grace shook her head.

BUT I HAVE AN IDEA...

A little alarm bell rang in the back of Snape's mind. There were only a few people who knew anything at all of his mother. But, of course, it could have been a mistaken address, and the money was meant for Miss Harker.

However...Snape knew what he would do.

"If I may," he said, "the money belongs to _me._ And I believe I should be one to decide how best to utilize it."

Grace looked ready to throttle him...or worse.

He smirked.

"Young Aiden should retire now," he said, "so...he can be fit when I take a base-line sample of his blood for testing in the morning. We must procure the necessary ingredients which remain and make the potion posthaste."

Grace looked as if she would kiss him, her eyes sparkling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A special thanks to Moontiger 5; my guinea pig from the beginning.


	6. Moonflowers and Phoenix Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brewing of the potion; and the stirring of more emotions.

Within two weeks of his ordering the ingredients, Snape had them in hand, and was ready to begin the brewing of the complicated potion. It would take a month, perhaps six weeks, to make. He wasted no time in cordoning off a part of the kitchen as a make-shift Potions lab, setting out the ingredients.

"Miss Harker," he said. The girl was preparing breakfast at the range.

He repeated the call. She ignored him again.

"Grace," he finally intoned sharply "I _know_ you are _not_ hard of hearing, despite your lack of a voice."

She turned to face him with a innocent smile, as if she had no idea what he was speaking of.

Heaving a sigh, Snape closed his eyes a moment, gathering his patience and tampering down the slight amusement he felt. He really felt able to read the girl like a book now. He wasn't sure if it was his Legillmency working on her inadvertently (although he seriously doubted it), or he was simply becoming more adjusted to her moods, the little messages she sent him.

"I suppose, this is your not so subtle way of telling me we may dispense with niceties?"

With a gentle smile, Grace nodded.

He had only called her by her given name once, when they first met. For Snape, it was a step toward friendship, and away from the easy partnership they had formed over his time in her home. She had almost become something of a constant, there in the morning and in the evening. The days were beginning to run together in a blur. Between his trips to Salem Institute, assisting Grace with her brother, and the occasional day at the apothecary, his life was a busy one.

Somehow, he didn't seem to mind.

Grace was looking at him as he came out of his reverie.

ARE YOU GOING TO THE STACKS TODAY?

"No," he replied smoothly "I intend to remain here and begin brewing the potion. On second thought...yes. I believe I will need to visit the Institute briefly this morning. There are one or two things I shall need to make sure of before the brewing commences."

ALL RIGHT. WOULD YOU MIND STOPPING BY THE RAVEN'S MOON AND LETTING THEM KNOW I'LL BE IN THIS AFTERNOON WHEN YOU GET BACK? I HAVE A LIST OF THINGS WE NEED AT THE STORE, IF YOU COULD GET THOSE AS WELL.

"Of course," he said. He watched Grace erase her message and write again.

DO YOU WANT ME TO HELP YOU WITH THE POTION-MAKING?

It wasn't something Snape had thought of until now. In the few weeks he had gotten to know Grace, he was surprised by her determination, her wisdom, her capacity to listen and ask intelligent questions.

* * *

She had run across the notes he'd laid out one lazy Sunday, and ended up pelting him with a series of questions which rivaled his own curiosity at Hogwarts. And her questions were actually intelligent, based in solid theory and knowledge of the body's functioning.

"Perhaps," he had said "I was premature in my judging you as a Gryffindor. Ravenclaw might have been the proper House for you."

She had smirked, and given him a mock bow.

* * *

"Yes—Grace," he said after giving the matter some thought "while we should begin the brewing as soon as possible, it can wait until you return from work this evening."

He brushed the dirt off his Muggle clothing and slipped on his boots, ready to head out the door.

The girl nodded, handing him his haversack; purchased at a thrift store, and perfect for his needs.

HAVE A GREAT TIME she wrote, giving him a mock salute.

He smirked as he went out the door.

While he perused the stacks at Salem Institute, he allowed himself to ponder his feelings for Grace during a break in his research.

 _'When,_ he wondered _'did I begin to think of her as more than what she already is?'_

The young woman infuriated him as much as she amused and helped him. Her mind was keen, and their bantering was as amusing as it was intellectually relaxing. Her fingers were nimble, often repairing a tear in a piece of clothing or patching a worn spot. She devoured books, and enjoyed learning new things. She pushed him emotionally, but only so far.

In short, he found her quite pleasant to be around. He could only guess that she reciprocated his feelings on their relationship, but it was of course not the easiest thing in the world to ask her. Not that he was unable, but matters of the heart had never exactly been his forte.

As he closed the books, his decision was made.

He was a little late in getting back, after arranging his little surprise for Grace. He had to be sure it was all right with the landlady, who gave her permission. It would take him a little while to arrange things, but he was sure she would like the surprise.

Grace was able to break away a little early. Snape had the materials they would need already laid out. He had consulted his notes, and knew this night was a good one to begin the potion.

"The base," he began, "will consist of these ingredients. The rest will be added at the New Moon. You may set to chopping the dernhu root into cubes, please, Miss Ha—Grace. I shall heat the cauldron."

Grace proved herself to be an admirable assistant. She merely did as he asked her, keeping an eye on the cauldron as he consulted his notes.

"And—finally-a little blood. Off the fire," he said, putting out the cauldron.

Grace looked at him quizzically.

"One of the ingredients for this base is a few drops of Human blood, Grace," he said "and, it would work best, if it came from someone in Aiden's own family. Someone tied to him by that element."

Grace rolled up her sleeve wordlessly. It did not please Snape to see her wince as he made the neat little incision in her arm. He gently guided it to the cauldron, allowing a few drops to fall into the potion. He placed a little plaster over the cut, gently lowering her sleeve.

"This must be allowed to maturate," he said "for a week or two. Aiden should begin to feel better almost immediately. I do not think it will cure him entirely, but it is a start."

Grace nodded, her eyes glittering. She did not need to speak.

The next day, Grace set out for the apothecary, intending to work there all day. After enlisting Hettie's assistance with Aiden, Snape went about preparing Grace's surprise. By mid-afternoon, it was done.

The trellis had taken little time to set up and anchor to the house, but the flowers had not wanted to grow for him at first, under the harsh sunlight. However, with a little magical ingenuity, it was done.

Smirking, he went back inside the house, even with a slight bounce in his step. He couldn't wait to show Grace.

That evening, Grace looked a little paler than usual, a little more tired and haggard. Snape kept an eye on her, waiting for the moment when Aiden was sleeping before taking her hand.

"I have something to show you," he said, taking her outside. He was gratified to see her eyes light up at the sight.

The trellis was covered in beautiful moonflowers. The little white flowers were like morning glories, though they only bloomed at night.

Unable to contain herself, Grace threw her arms around his middle in a hug.

For a moment, he was unsure of what to do. Finally, his arms slipped around her, squeezing gently.

The next morning, when he awoke, there was no smell of cooking, or the moving about of pots and pans. Grace was not in the kitchen, or in the main area.

Going into the bedroom, he knelt beside Grace's futon. She looked deathly pale, her skin was clammy and cold, and her eyes were dim.

"You have been working yourself entirely too hard," he remonstrated gently, and with a whispered charm, made her lighter. He lifted her gently, settling her on the couch.

"Did you handle anything toxic at work yesterday?" he asked.

Grace shook her head slowly.

"Any pain?"

Another shake of the head.

Snape played the game of twenty questions with Grace, before coming to his conclusion.

"It appears," he said "that you are suffering from overwork, too much stress, and lack of descent eating and sleeping habits. In short, you are working yourself to death. I will telephone the apothecary to inform them you are unwell. And, I assure you, if you move from that couch, I have no compunction about using a spell to keep you there."

He had no idea why he had threatened her with the last part as he found the telephone, and informed Mrs. Kirk that Grace was unwell.

"First," he said when that was done "you will take in some nourishment. Then, I shall make up a Sleeping Draught for you. Do not worry about Aiden; I can attend to him today. Your one job is to rest."

Grace meekly accepted the hearty bread and soup which Snape put together, as well as the Sleeping Draught. When he was sure that the potion had taken affect, he went in to examine Aiden. After a few moments, he perused the shelves and, finding a book, he settled in by the light of the window to read it.

It was evening when Grace groggily awoke, no longer under the potion's influence. She still felt tired, and merely went back to sleep on the couch upon seeing Snape's black eyes drift up from the pages of the book he was reading as she stirred.

He smirked. She was learning.

By the time the New Moon came around, Grace had been long recovered, and they were finally ready to add the rest of the ingredients.

"And—finally-phoenix tears," he said, adding the precious item to the potion off the fire. They turned the liquid a milky white. He stirred thrice clockwise, twice counter-clockwise.

"Now it must cool. Aiden will take his first dose in the morning. Perhaps, Grace, you should be the one to administer it."

She shook her head, pointing at him.

"Very well," he said "but may I inquire as to why?"

BECAUSE HE TRUSTS YOU, TOO.

"And do you?" he asked her.

WITH MY LIFE, SEVERUS.


	7. All Hallow's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween in Salem; and a lot of bad memories for one certain Professor.

"Do not be afraid, Aiden," said Snape gently as he handed Aiden the vial, filled with the expensive and complicated potion. Grace smiled and nodded at her little brother. With more than a little trepidation, he downed the contents of the vial.

"Thank you, Mr. Prince," he said, his eyes shining like Grace's did when she was particularly happy.

"You do not need to go all sentimental on me, boy," replied the Potions Master with a smirk "I get enough of that from your sister."

His work completed for now, Snape rose and with a practiced turn of his heel, slipped past Grace as she came in with sit with her brother.

The next day, at about the same time, Aiden was dosed again. After a week, Snape drew another vial of Aiden's blood. Pocketing it, he excused himself to 14 Pioneer Street's occupants, and made for the city's Common.

Salem Hospital for Magical Injuries and Healer Kilrain were there to accept the sample which "Dr. Prince" provided.

"If you can wait an hour or so," he said "I can have the results back for you."

Snape nodded, and as Healer Kilrain said, the results were ready within an hour. The results were promising.

"I have news," proclaimed Snape. Grace turned from where she cleaning the kitchen, looking at Snape with a thousand emotions in her eyes.

"It appears," he said, holding up the results "Aiden's health is improving."

Grace's smile lit up Apartment 3A. It spoke so much more than any words she might have used to express her joy.

The days began to shorten a little more, and the weather began to turn cooler. For the first time in a long time, Aiden was able to go outside and walk around the harbor without any help. Snape and Grace watched him feed the gulls, and even trail his fingers through the water.

Snape felt the calm aura of the girl—the young woman—at his side. She had been made to grow up a lot faster than she might have, but it did not make her bitter. It was simply something which had been placed in her way, and in the way of a tenacious flower, she had bloomed in grace and wisdom.

Since when was he so damn sentimental?

"She's pretty, eh, Snape?" piped a familiar male voice.

"And just when I thought we were to have a quiet afternoon...free of pests," groused the Potions Master as he watched Grace and Aiden meander along toward the tiny lighthouse. Grace's hair was, for once, unbound, and blew in sea breeze, the sun lighting it with fire.

"She does like you, you know," mused Robin, lounging beside Snape, following his gaze.

"Shall I list the reasons why such an—attachment-would be wrong chronologically? Or alphabetically? First of all, the girl deserves someone who could match her displays of affection, and give as he got. Secondly, I highly doubt she would reciprocate any romantic feelings I might _possibly_ have toward her. Oh..and this is of course notwithstanding the fact she is, basically _twenty years my junior._ "

"Age is nothing but a number, Snape," smirked Robin "and besides...just ask her. The worst she could say is no."

Snape merely glared at the fae, but said nothing more as he turned back to watch Grace and Aiden.

Grace pulled her patchwork coat tighter around her as she came back with Aiden, who looked up at Snape with glittering, eager eyes.

"Mr. Prince...could we go out tonight? They're giving out candy in the Museum District. Please?"

While Snape's very nature balked at the thought at attending _any_ sort of All Hallows festivities in the city which embraced it's witchy heritage, the Potions Master supposed it would be better than remaining at home.

"Very well," he sighed "I suppose we could...at least for a few hours."

Aiden grinned and whooped his approval, and Grace smiled, laughing as much as she might. On their way home, Aiden led Grace and Snape to a little shop and insisted upon a knight's costume, complete with sword. It amused Snape as much as it irked him; Gryffindor, indeed. Memories of duels with the Marauders, and others of a certain red-haired beauty assaulted his memory.

It had been ten years. He vaguely wondered what became of the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him as well as his two friends. Perhaps Grace might have heard news; he made a note to ask her later. Grace was eying a pretty dress in an icy blue with an underdress of emerald green. Her fingers ran along the rich fabric longingly, and she smiled fondly. Snape watched her and Aiden.

"You should get that Sister!" he said happily. Grace smiled a little sadly, and shook her head. She let her hand linger on the fabric before taking Aiden to the counter. He allowed them to be distracted elsewhere, and his hand reached for the dress.

"For that young lady," Snape said quietly, his tone dissuading any questions as he pointed to Grace. He quickly caught up with the siblings as they made their way home.

The sun was going down, and Aiden was just finished donning his costume when Snape leaned in to whisper in Grace's ear.

"You should check your brother's room," he said calmly, walking over to be sure the basket for Aiden's candy was ready. Shooting him a confused look, Grace did as he said. She came out later in the beautiful dress that she had been eying. She half-glared at Snape, but her smile betrayed her happiness.

"You should wear your gold circlet with that, Grace!" said Aiden, eagerly poking about and finding it. It was made of brass, twisted into the shape of a intricate crescent moon and triple knots on either side. She knelt down, and allowed Aiden to put the circlet on her head.

"There—now you look like Morgan LaFey!" he said happily.

"I think Lady Elaine of Ascolat...the Lady of Shalott...would be a better and more accurate historical figure, Aiden. Though, I do not imagine her with hair so...light."

Grace stuck out her tongue at him. Everyone knew Elaine was a redhead. Thus bedecked, the trio set off toward Salem Common.

More people than Snape had ever seen, Muggle and Wizarding alike, were wandering the streets of Salem. The shopkeepers and those who worked in restaurants were bedecked in costumes, baskets of sweets on their arms. The children and even a few adults procured candy. Music came out of the nearby pubs. A few of the more well-known costumed were asked to pose for photographs. There was a Glenda, a Wicked Witch of the West, as well as even a Captain Jack Sparrow. Aiden insisted on getting photographs with as many as he could, and returned very weary with a basket full of sweets, which he generously shared.

Snape felt his inner self tense like a bow-string. He longed suddenly to return to the safety of the apartment, and when he finally lay down that night, the dreams began to haunt him again.

_He did not see the green flash. He did not need to. It was all too clear what had occurred, and just before he had managed to arrive._

_James was dead on the stair-well, eyes open, still wearing his glasses. He had died as he had lived...quick and without regrets._

_He dashed into the nursery. The crying of a child could mean only one thing. He staggered into the room, his heart fracturing into irreparable pieces._

_She lay on the ground, eyes open, looking straight at him. Tears came into his eyes and slid down his face as he crashed to his knees, taking her still-warm body close, weeping._

_'Lily...Lily...'_

When he started awake, a small light and a pair of blue eyes was the only thing which announced her presence to him. She looked at him, a mixture of sadness and worry on her face.

"Lily?" he asked, still in the grip of the nightmare which would haunt him the rest of his days.

The girl shook her head, gently and tenuously reaching out a hand. He sat up, taking the hand that was offered like a life line. The intensity of his gesture made the girl tense and surprised her, but she did not attempt to wrench her hand away.

For a moment, black and blue met. Slowly...very slowly...he came around.

"Grace," he said "I...forgive me if I woke you."

She smiled in a way that said she was not put out. Reaching out her other hand slowly, she reached up, her nimble fingers hovering inches from his face, asking permission. When he did not make any protest, she reached out to caress the angular features, the hooked nose, and finally wiped the tears from his eyes.

Snape knew she could not entirely understand the wound that refused to heal...or had it? Here, with this girl, he had found a new life. And he was miraculously _alive_. He was able to feel, free to let the wound pain him, and then allow it to pass. Old debts had been paid.

Grace was his chance. And he had been smacked over the head with it in a big way tonight. She slipped wordlessly into bed beside him, gently taking his face between her hands. Without protest, he allowed her to rest his head on her shoulder, felt her absently running fingers through his black hair until they both fell asleep.

October drifted into November, and November into December. Mrs. Kirk invited everyone from Number 14 to her home for Thanksgiving festivities. Snape was pleasantly surprised at the blend of Muggle and Wizarding food. Etherian too was there, along with a few of the Kirk family.

 _Family_. A theme who had been resonating with Snape even more since All Hallows. He was, inadvertently, given a family. From the enigmatic Mrs. Kirk, to the grandmotherly Hettie. To the quirky but kind Etherian. And, finally, Grace and Aiden. While none had any known blood relation, they had become a family.

 _'This_ ,' he thought _'is what it means to be a family.'_

A week or two before the Winter Solstice, Snape took yet another sample of Aiden's blood down to Healer Kilrain.

"You've done a miraculous thing, Dr. Prince," he said "but...I'm afraid that there's no more improvement than the last sample you brought in two weeks ago."

With practiced neutrality, Snape thanked the Healer for his kindness and turned on his heel, pondering. So—the potion only worked so far. Aiden had improved greatly, but he was having his good and bad days. He was able to eat at table most days, and he enjoyed the occasional walk along the harbor...but there were days when he was so drained, he was unable to leave his bed.

It appeared another long and extensive research trip to Salem Institute was in order.

But first...a suitable gift for Grace and Aiden.

Christmas morning found the residents of Apartment 3A shifting things yet again. Snape and Grace spent the morning putting together a beautiful new trundle bed of oak for Aiden's bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I used Snapegirl's poem, "Behind the Mask" as a kind of inspiration for this chapter. Thank you to all my readers and those who have helped me to keep this story going. Especially Miss Moontiger5.


	8. What Price, Victory?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape learns just what Grace Harker sacrificed.

The snow fell in sheets across the window of Apartment 3A. Hettie watched Aiden, who was sick in bed, while Grace and the man she knew as Dr. Prince went off to Salem Institute. He had sent via loan for a few very rare books to be perused, and had been notified that they were ready.

Deep in the Restricted Stacks, Grace and Severus poured over the rare volumes. The girl looked up at the Potions Master, whose look of general disappointment and frustration had not left him since he returned with the news.

"We got it half right, Grace," he said calmly "half right only. There must be another component to cure Aiden completely of his illness."

So, it was back to the medical journals, the case studies, and those were becoming more and more rare. Those who had been studied did not often live, but there seemed to be a thread forming in the back of Snape's mind which could, possibly, be the missing component.

The sun was just setting on the January day when the two researchers wearily trundled home. Aiden was sitting in bed, looking out over the icy harbor.

"Hello," he said, smiling, "I'm feeling a little better now."

Grace sat next to Aiden on his new bed, stroking his sandy hair lovingly while a smile played on her lips.

"Grace," he asked, pleadingly "will you sing for me? Please? I haven't heard you sing in so long..."

She kissed the top of Aiden's head, trying not to let tears run down into his hair.

"I am afraid," said Snape gently "your sister's case of laryngitis is quite permanent. She cannot sing for you, much as I am sure it would please her to do so."

"But I want to hear her sing!" pleaded Aiden "I love hearing my sister sing! Please, Mr. Prince...can't you make her better? I want to hear her sing!"

Aiden's irrationality was partly due to the fever he was running, Snape knew. Grace latched onto her brother tightly, stroking his hair while he hiccuped.

Grace looked up at Severus, reaching for her whiteboard.

THERE IS A SILVER, ROUND DISC LABELED 02/14/08. COULD YOU PLEASE GET THAT, THE CD PLAYER, AND BRING THEM BOTH IN HERE?

It was an easy enough request to fulfill, and within a few moments, he was plugging it in.

A sweet, beautiful sound filled the room. Aiden began to relax in Grace's arms as she tried not to cry. Instead, she stroked her brother's hair. As for Snape, he looked at the girl, sinking into a chair.

Never had he heard such a gentle, melodious sound. The song spoke of a young girl who had fallen in love, and was left behind by her lover. The guitar was a perfect instrument for the silvery notes, complimenting them ideally. He felt as if he had been struck hard in the gut as the song continued. It was otherworldly, completely impossible that the girl who was cradling her brother could create such beautiful melodies...and then would willingly give up such a gift.

He had no idea just how much Aiden meant to her until now.

The song died on the air, and the silence afterward was long. When Grace lifted her head, tears drifted down her cheeks.

But what was it she was crying for?

Citing a need for air, Snape slipped on a warm jacket and went out into the night. His wandering took him down to the pier, where the snow-covered tall ship stood in state. Grace's voice still rang in his brain as he breathed in the frigid air.

"If you do not make yourself known you pest," muttered Snape "I assure you that I will find a way to make you appear."

As if on cue, Robin appeared.

"Ah. I know that face," he said "looks like you just got walloped in the gut there, Snape."

But that was all he could say, because Snape reached out like a lightning flash, grabbing the fae by the throat. He relaxed his grip only a little when the creature began to cough.

"You did not tell me exactly _what_ that girl gave up," he hissed, shaking Robin a little for emphasis "how _dare_ you demand such a price from her?"

"E—easy," said the fae, "calm down, Snape. It's not like I made her."

"You gave her an _impossible_ choice, you deplorable creature. Do you think she would have done anything less?"

"Course...not," he gasped "but..s'not like...she had...anything else."

Snape finally released his grip on the fae, glaring daggers at him.

"There's nothing you can do, Snape," said Robin "unless you want to give up something. I'll return Grace's voice to her, posthaste. Hmmm...maybe an eye...nah, too morbid."

"Enough," snapped the Potions Master, his mind whirling. Only one thought emerged with any sort of clarity.

Grace. He had left her. Alone.

Without another word, he went back to Apartment 3A.

Grace was curled up on the sofa, her shoulders shaking with soundless sobs. The door opened and closed to admit him, and he saw her.

As broken as he was when Lily was taken from him. He came to sit beside her, reaching out a hand to rub her shoulder. She turned to see him, her gaze inadvertently pleading with him. He did not need any more provocation, but drew her into his arms willingly. Her pretty head rested on his shoulder, and she drew herself up to be close to him.

"Is it the loss of your voice which makes you weep?" he asked her. He felt her shake her head.

"Then—the only other obvious thing is your brother's request, and your inability to fulfill it."

Grace nodded, sniffling a little.

"You have a good deal more strength than even I was able to perceive, Grace," he said warmly, a hand drifting up and down her back "Aiden must mean the world to you, to sacrifice such a treasure as you had."

Grace was calm now, and her tears had stopped falling. But she did not move from her place next to Snape. He in turn relished in her warmth, the sweet scent of lavender and freesia in her hair. Her breathing slowed, and before he realized it, she had fallen asleep.

Gently lifting her, Snape carried her to bed, wandlessly and soundlessly drawing out the lower half of the trundle bed for Grace. He covered her with a warm quilt, and waited until he was sure she slept soundly before retiring himself.

Rather than dwell on the haunting sound which had been Grace's voice, Snape threw himself into work, and encouraged Grace to do the same. Tourist season was over, so the shops were not nearly as busy as they had been when he arrived. However, the loyal few who resided in Salem came to the Raven's Moon to purchase herbal remedies and receive advice from the witches. They all kept Grace as busy as possible, grinding herbs and tinkering with the aspects of the potion.

Finally, in early February, the answer came to Snape.

"Grace," he said, "I have discovered why the potion only worked half-"

As he came into the apartment, the atmosphere was distinctly different. On the kitchen table was a set of handmade chocolates. Grace was standing next to them, cheeks flushed pink, smiling shyly.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY the whiteboard said.

Snape had forgotten the day, and momentarily was mortified he had no gift for her. However, when he thought about it again, there was a gift he could give her...

"With your consent, Grace," he said, "I should like to attempt something..."

And he sat her down carefully, looking into her eyes. He placed a gentle hand on the side of her face, seeking the part of her mind which he knew could speak. He probed at her mind lightly, forming the connection.

"Grace," he said, "can you speak?"

" _Of course I can. Well...sort of."_

The experiment was a success. He smiled, gently releasing her.

"I think," he said "we can do away with the bloody whiteboard..."

And he tossed it into the air, carving it to pieces, casting Incendio. It landed in the hearth and made a charming fire.

Grace's laughter rang in his head.

"You and I," he explained "will be able to communicate through the small connection of Legillimency which I have made. That, at least, will eliminate your need for a whiteboard when I am present."

" _Thank you, Severus, for being my voice."_

"I suppose," he smirked "you could have found someone less...interesting."

Her giggle sounded in his head, but did not give him a headache. Even when she laughed, her voice was sweet, and musical.

"Grace," he asked "who are those for?"

" _You mean the chocolates? For you. Happy Valentine's Day."_

"They appear to have been made by hand."

" _My talents extend far and wide, Severus. I hope you'll try one."_

"With pleasure," he said, and reached for one.

As they sat together by the fire, which he threw a bit of wood on, he realized she did not shy away from him. Instead, she curled in close to him. Reaching out, he looped an arm around Grace, feeling her head come to rest on his shoulder. She looked up at him, the question in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking down at her. At her nod, his long fingers drifted under her chin, gently drawing her face close to his. Her head fell naturally to the side, her eyes drifting closed.

For a moment, they stopped, a little unsure of themselves. But they moved closer to each other again, and their lips met in a uncertain but gentle kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: An inspiration for Grace's voice is YouTube user lindseybradley22. Her version of, "The Lady of the Lea" is the song which is mentioned in this chapter. .com/watch?v=86DaH-d9Tl4 This too is being used without permission and without intent to copyright. She sings this song very beautifully, and I immediately thought of Grace when I heard her.


	9. Aiden's Denoument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sacrifice is made for Aiden.

That kiss haunted Severus Snape for the rest of the night. As he lay in bed that night, it filled his mind, his very being.

Grace's lips were soft, gentle, and her kiss tasted of chocolate and everything sweet. He vaguely wondered if she had ever been kissed before. He somehow doubted it, and it filled him with a strange and giddy sort of wonder. He, Severus Snape, had been the first to kiss Grace Harker.

He was once again smacked over the head with the beautiful new chance he had been given. As clear as the crystal vials in his old classroom, he saw the beauty of what she had inadvertently given to him.

It was time for Severus Snape to live as one who had earned his life.

The date, he noted, of this internal decision was rather ironic. Valentine's Day, a day he never had considered as special or even wanted to think about in that way before.

As Morpheus finally snatched him into sleep, he dreamed he was kissing Grace one more time.

The next morning, Grace was awake, as usual, before him. It was the smell of his new favorite dark roast blend that roused him from the dream world which had enveloped him. She was pouring out the freshly prepared brew when he came into the kitchen. For a repast, it was fresh-baked scones with butter and honey.

Much as he wished to maintain the early-morning peace and gentle atmosphere of Apartment 3A, Snape knew it was necessary. He had followed the thread which his theory had begun, and arrived at a grim but necessary conclusion.

"Grace...before we go much father this day...and before...last night...I had discovered the missing piece of Aiden's recovery."

Grace looked at him quizzically.

"I am afraid," he said "there is no way around it. Aiden will require several blood transfusions from someone who is magical. A witch or a wizard. And, based on the case-studies, I am afraid that person may...not survive."

Grace looked grim.

" _There isn't anyone that I know that would be willing to do that...except for me. And...well, I'm a Squib."_

"It is a risk, Grace, that I would take if no one else could be found."

" _No...Severus, I-"_

Grace nibbled on her bottom lip.

"Do not concern yourself, Grace," he said softly, reaching out to slip a lock of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear "I am a lot stronger than you might think. It is unlikely I would be sacrificing my life in the process."

She did not look convinced at all.

" _I couldn't ask you to do that for Aiden. Not when I..."_

Snape looked at the girl. She looked as if she might cry, or worse.

"Since when did a friendship turn into more?" he asked "since when did we..."

" _When we least expected it."_

He nodded in agreement. Their fledgling affection had blossomed like flowers in Spring. Or rather, mused Snape, like a legendary Fire Lily. They grew in dark and cold places, and were often found when one was not looking for them.

Aiden was able to come and sit by the fire, while Snape mused over the problem. Even if the boy were to receive the blood transfusions he needed, it would not be a guaranteed cure. At best, it was risky, and probably half-mad. It was also Aiden's best chance.

Snape meandered downstairs, intent on heading out as he continued to muse the problem.

"Dr. Prince?"

The voice of the landlady stopped him as he was about to step out.

"Yes, Madame? Is there something you needed?" he asked cordially. While he did not know Hettie that intimately, he was sometimes asked to do a task for her, being the only adult male present in the house. These simple tasks he carried out with a certain amount of satisfaction; it was nice to be wanted for menial labor, after what he'd had to do before.

"How's little Aiden?" she asked, her eyes twinkling unnervingly like a wizard he remembered.

"I am afraid that his condition is not cured. I am on my way to the hospital to speak with his Healer about the possibility of a risky and dangerous treatment."

"What does he need?" she asked.

"A series of transfusions, Madame. The witch or wizard who is willing to provide them is putting themselves at a great risk."

"Why would he need that?" she asked.

"Because," he explained, "while Aiden's magical core is now mostly stable in his body, it does not eliminate the genetic issue which began the disorder to begin with. Magical blood is, I am afraid, the only solution."

"Of course. Thank you, Dr. Prince. I am sorry to have held you up. Please don't waste any more time on my account."

"Good day, Madame," replied the Potions Master. He gave her a little bow, and went out the door toward Salem Hospital.

"I am afraid I cannot help you, Dr. Prince," said Healer Kilrain, "I do hope that you can, perhaps find someone willing to endure the transfusions. I will keep my ear to the ground as well. You never know."

With a nod, Snape strode from the hospital, doing what he could to contain his annoyance, his utter frustration. To have come so far, and yet to fail? It did not appeal to his sensitivities at all. He deliberately took the long way back to Apartment 3A, feeling calmer and he did.

As he came in, Grace handed him an unopened letter.

" _This came today. Just a few moments ago. Aiden is doing all right, but he was getting weaker. I sent him along to bed."_

"Thank you, Grace. A cup of tea would be welcome."

Smiling a little, she nodded and went into the kitchen as Snape sank into a chair by the fire. He accepted the tea Grace brought as he perused the letter.

_Dear Dr. Prince-_

_It has been quite kind of you to take such an interest in Grace and her younger brother. I have never known someone who is willing to go far for a pair of young people they barely know._

_On that note, I believe I must make a confession to you. I too am a witch. However, when I fell in love, I chose to live in the Muggle world, with my husband. I gave up my magic, broke my wand myself, and lived with him in happiness until his death some years ago._

_I am an old woman, and have lived a good and long life. Aiden's has only begun, and if I am a suitable candidate for the transfusions of which you spoke to me this morning, I should be glad to provide them._

_Sincerely Yours_

_Hettie Grayson._

"I believe," he said "I shall have to owl Healer Kilrain, Grace. A possible candidate has been found."

Snape walked with Hettie down to the Hospital next morning, where Healer Kilrain took a baseline sample of her blood. Within a few hours, he had the results.

"Well, it appears that you, Ms. Grayson, and young Aiden are a type match. Though of course, this procedure is quite experimental...but I understand Dr. Prince has made you aware of the risks involved."

"He was good enough to do so, Healer Kilrain. I only hope I can help that dear little boy."

"Well—Dr. Prince, I suppose I see no reason why we cannot move forward with the treatment. When would be a suitable time for Aiden to be admitted?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," he said, "I shall inform Miss Harker of the necessity."

Grace was anything but happy about Aiden's admission.

" _How could you?"_ she snapped " _he doesn't need those stupid Healers poking and prodding him! And the food...it'll be terrible!"_

Severus allowed Grace to calm down, catching the little raven statuette she threw at him with skill and precision.

"Grace," he said calmly "my dear..."

The pair of words surprised even him. They felt strange, and yet somehow right leaving him.

"My dear," he repeated, and went on "Aiden will receive only the best. I will see to it, if I must remain for every facet of his treatment. He will need more specialized care than can be provided here. If something were to go dreadfully wrong, Aiden is dead if he remains here. At hospital, at least, he would have a chance."

Grace sniffled, and took hold of Snape, her arms going around his middle, head resting on his shoulder.

" _Severus, I'm scared,"_ she said _"I'm scared to death."_

"It is natural," he said calmly, his arms slipping around Grace's slender form, "but I assure you—I will not allow anything to happen to Aiden while I am able to prevent it. Grace...you must trust me."

She sniffled, and looked up at him.

" _With my life, Severus."_

Aiden was admitted to hospital the next morning, taken in a car that was kindly sent by Healer Kilrain. Wearing his imposing and clean black robes, he assisted with Aiden's admission. A pair of rooms were set up; Snape and Aiden occupied one, Hettie the other. Grace was promptly sent back home in the car after seeing to it her brother was quite safe and would remain so.

Through that night, Snape monitored Aiden's response to the first transfusion. It seemed to be working. Aiden's magical core was stabilizing, thanks to the slow introduction of the new blood. Aiden's body slowly adapted, and with the aid of another potion, by morning, he was quite stable. Several times he moaned or whimpered in pain, and Snape was there, speaking to him softly. He didn't cajole or speak platitudes; rather, he spoke softly of his sister, and how happy she would be once he was well again. He read _Arabian Nights_ as well, until Aiden finally drifted off into sleep.

Next morning, Healer Kilrain came into the room, looking sad and grim.

"How is he, Dr, Prince?" he asked wearily.

"Quite well, given the rather rough night he had," murmured Snape "and—Mrs. Grayson?"

Kilrain sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"She didn't make it," he said "but—somehow, I think she knew it would be that way. She just was...we tried to..."

"I understand, Healer Kilrain. Mrs. Grayson knew exactly what might happen. Her sacrifice will not be unacknowledged, nor will she be forgotten for it."

Snape decided to walk slower than usual, taking the long way home. He did not relish the role he had just been thrust into. However, he had no real choice except to tell Grace what happened. He came into the mostly empty house. Grace came down the stairs.

" _Aiden?"_ she asked, her chest heaving with each breath.

"The transfusion was a success, Grace," he said wearily, "Aiden will recover, and he will live."

The girl searched his eyes, a hand drifting to caress Severus' face, her blue eyes filling with tears.

" _She...she didn't make it?"_

"No," he said flatly "I am sorry, Grace."

For a moment, he was worried that she might be angry with _him._ Instead , she drew him close, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He held her, letting her cry for a while. They spent the day in peace and quiet, mourning the noble lady's loss.

A few days later, Aiden returned from hospital, and into the care of his sister and Snape. The day Aiden returned, Snape and Grace were called into the downstairs by their former landlady's solicitor.

"So sad...I know you both feel the same way," he said, clearing his throat, "well—Mrs. Grayson met with me the day before she died. She wanted to make a transfer of her estate. Miss Harker...the estate is to be divided between yourself and Dr. Prince. Now, of course she didn't have a large set of resources...but what is available is a modest amount. Enough, perhaps, to make a few necessary repairs on the house...shore things up...and to have a little left besides."

"While that was very kind of her, sir," murmured Snape "I have no desire to take anything from Gr—Miss Harker—that could benefit her. Can a transfer of my portion of the estate be made?'"

"Well—certainly, Dr. Prince. Certainly. The papers can be done within the week."

"Very well. Thank you."

When the solicitor had gone, Snape turned to Grace, who was looking at him, confused.

"It would be, in the long run, less complicated if everything were in your name," he said "after all—we do not know how much longer I may be here. Something, I believe, that pain in our collective backside should illuminate us on without delay."


	10. Snape's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin has one last choice for Severus Snape to make

It was evening, and Snape wandered down to the frozen pier. The snow had mostly gone, and he perched on the dry bench, catching the scent of salt water on a little gust of wind.

"Make yourself known, you bloody pest," he muttered.

Robin soon appeared. He was not small this time, but the height of a Human...perhaps a little shorter. He lighted on the bench beside the Potions Master.

"Regrets, Snape?" he asked.

"Death is never easy to accept, you annoyance."

"Of course. But you know that she knew what she was getting herself into. She went to her death willingly. I daresay she's shacked up with her hubbie again."

Snape scoffed a little at the fae's gentle statement.

"I suppose you know why I asked you here," he said.

Robin nodded. The silence between them was almost amiable.

"The way I see it, Snape...you have two options. One...you could always go back to being dead..."

The glare from the former professor made him chuckle nervously.

"O-kay. I think we can safely say that's not an option. The other...is that you can stay. Or, if you really want...you could say goodbye to Grace. Start a new life back in Britain. Maybe find some of those old friends of yours."

Snape looked up at the fae.

"Is the war truly over?" he asked.

"Yes," said Robin "would you like to see?"

He nodded before he was able to stop himself.

"All right, Snape. I'll make a deal with you. I'll take you there...to see what Wizarding Britain is like without you. And then—you make a choice. Sound good?"

At his nod, Robin offered a hand. In a flash, the two were gone.

* * *

They were at Hogwarts, mostly rebuilt, though Snape could still sense that the old stones would never be the same again. The Headmaster's office was open. Minerva McGonagall was standing with a young man. Snape knew the unruly hair and glasses well.

"Potter," muttered Snape. He looked up, seeing his own likeness in a golden frame.

"It's very good, Potter," the old Headmistress was saying "quite a good likeness."

"Well, Professor...he gave up everything. He sacrificed so much for us all. This is the best way I can think of to honor Snape. And of course...him."

Harry smiled, lifting a small boy onto his shoulders. He couldn't be more than two or three years of age. His emerald eyes fell upon the portrait which had to yet to be given life.

"Ah yes...what was his name again?"

"Albus, Professor. Albus Severus."

Snape felt his stomach turn at the gesture. And yet, he couldn't help but smirk a little.

Another flash, and they were in a cold place Snape knew well. He heard the rattling of chains, saw a shock of white hair before the lifeless form was covered with a shabby blanket.

"Poor 'ol sod," muttered one of the attendants.

"Ol' Snape...he got off a lot better. He'd have been for Azkaban too, if he'd lived," chortled the other. Together, they hefted the body of Lucius Malfoy and carried him from his cell.

"Most o'the Slytherin lot got off easy," replied the first.

Another flash, and they were before a small home in London, looking in the window. The Weasley boy was embracing the Granger girl, kissing her sweetly.

"Tomorrow is the big day, you know," he murmured to his wife.

"I know...I've arranged a memorial for Professor Snape too. He deserves it...it's the least we can do."

Hermionie's voice faded. Salem and the cold pier appeared once more.

* * *

"Well, Snape? Your choice?"

"Before I make the choice, one question. You, who can foresee the future...what consequences can you see?"

"If you mean, will anything bad happen either way? Except for everyone feeling kind of awkward after seeing you dead and buried...nothing."

Snape considered each option. He had never been one to rush a decision, and this was certainly going to be no exception. While a certain Slytherin part of him imagined the faces of those he had known once slack-jawed at his return, the wiser part stopped to think.

There was only one problem with that particular scenario. And her name was Grace Harker. She had been the one to give him this chance, a new life without any stigmas, any sort of expectations. Now that his task was complete, he could, perhaps...learn to love the girl. Aiden would no longer need his assistance, at least medically.

Whether he tried to deny it or not, he had an attachment to the girl and her younger brother. To young Aiden, he felt as if he might be a teacher and guide. And as to his sister...to Grace...what might she become to him, now that time and space were available for a romance to grow?

Maybe nowhere. That he would leave to her.

"Robin," he said "I choose to stay."

"That your final answer, Snape? I can't change things if you change your mind."

"Yes, damn you. I choose to stay here. With Grace."

"Good choice, Snape...and good luck to you both."

With a little salute, Robin left Snape to return to Apartment 3A. Grace was half-asleep in a chair near the fire, some knitting in her lap. A soft violin music resonated through the house. When she heard the door open and close, her eyes opened. She smiled sleepily at Severus, who came to sit beside her.

"Grace," he said, taking her hand, "I have chosen to remain here. And...if you will allow me...since there is no parent I could ask.."

The girl looked at him, amused.

" _Why, Severus...is this a proposal of...are you trying to ask me out?"_

"For all intents and purposes...I am."

She smiled, reaching out to caress his cheek.

" _There is one person you could ask...Aiden."_

"In the morning, then...if you..."

" _All right, Severus. It wouldn't do to wake him now anyway. And yes...I am quite fine with your proposal."_

Reaching out to caress her face delicately, Snape drew in close, kissing her softly. Her kiss was warm and sweet, as he recalled it in his dreams.

The next morning, Aiden came to sit at table with his sister and Snape. Breakfast was delicious, though Aiden began to be suspicious at the looks his sister and the doctor were casting at each other.

Finally, once everyone was settled after the meal, Snape cleared his throat and turned to the boy.

"Aiden," he said, "seeing as you are, Grace's only living blood relative, and seeing as I am a gentleman with honorable intent...I ask your opinion...what do you think of me dating your sister? We spoke of it last night, and Grace said she was not averse to the idea."

The young boy looked from the Potions Master to his sister. Finally, he turned to Grace.

"Do you like him, Sister?"

Grace smiled and nodded.

"Do you _like_ him, like him?"

Grace laughed, the sound ringing in Snape's head. Finally, she gave an easy shrug of her shoulders.

She looked to Snape, who nodded. She reached for her portable white board.

MAYBE, AIDEN. THAT'S WHY WE WANT TO COURT. TO SEE IF WE DO LOVE EACH OTHER.

"Why are you asking me? I mean, you're grown-ups."

"Because, Aiden," said Severus "your sister respects your opinion, especially with something that will ultimately have an effect upon you. If you sister finds herself, after a suitable period of time, ready to enter a marriage, with _any_ person, you will become their brother-in-law. She cares deeply for you, and wishes nothing but your health and happiness."

Aiden looked from Snape, to his sister, and back again.

"All right," he said finally "I suppose I can let you date my sister."

Laughter went around the breakfast table.

After breakfast, the trio went out for a short walk along the mostly clear the streets of Salem. Aiden kept at a respectable distance in front of Severus and Grace. They walked easily, arm in arm. They went up for hot drinks at the coffee shop.

The snow began again as they returned. Grace set to work on a hearty stew, slicing up bread that she baked yesterday.

* * *

February slipped easily into March, and with it warmer and longer days. Once the Spring had set in, a few tourists began to return to Salem. The Raven's Moon began to buzz again with curious people and those who needed potions, herbal remedies, and advice.

With the generous funds provided by their former landlady, the week after the deed had been officially transferred into Grace's name, the work began. The upstairs was first.

"How, do you suppose, can we get rid of these things, Sister?" asked Aiden, his eyes shining.

Grace finished tying the kerchief in her hair, handing Aiden one for his nose and mouth. She pulled her own face cover up, gesturing to Severus.

" _Care to make a mess with us?"_ she asked him, a certain amount of devious pleasure creeping into her words as they reached Severus' head.

"Very well," he smirked back, covering his own face. His voice was muffled, but the command was clear as he pointed his wand. Grace and Aiden made sure to be well away and behind Snape, and what was to come.

"Reducto," he said.

There was a concentrated blast. It was fortunate the utilities had all been turned off in preparation for this messy bit of work. With gloves and long clothes to protect them, the three set to work merrily chucking the remains of what had been Apartment 3A out the window.

"Dr. Prince...look how far I can throw!" shouted Aiden, lifting a piece of what had been the range. It flew out with the window as Aiden whooped merrily.

"You would, perhaps, make a good Quidditch player, Aiden," complimented Snape as he and Grace lifted a particularly heavy piece of—well, something—and hefted it out the window.

For a week, it was more or less this way. In the morning, Snape would use his magic, sometimes training Aiden, to blast walls, furniture, and anything else not worth keeping or beyond repair. Snape or Grace would head to the Raven's Moon to work, while the other two would clean up the mess in anticipation of the new place they were building.

Only a few items remained once the purging was complete. A lot of things that could be salvaged were given to those in need. It was decided the trundle bed that had been a Christmas gift was too much of a nuisance to give away, and so it would be moved into Aiden's new bedroom.

The spacious home was to be divided, after some debate, somewhat differently than before. The downstairs was to become a descent-sized sitting room, with a smaller parlour that looked out onto the street. This was to be exclusively for Grace's guests. There was still a bit of a debate over the sitting-room's décor.

* * *

"Black," said Snape "it is practical...and functional. Leather."

" _Microfiber. Jewel tones...warm browns and reds...like an old Victorian place,"_ protested Grace with an adorable pout.

"I want a pirate theme!" chorused Aiden. On this, the adults were united; absolutely no pirates in the sitting-room.

In the end, a rich green was chosen, accented with warm golds and black. The furniture was a blend of plush and, on Snape's insistence, a pair of comfortable leather armchairs to sit by the hearth. At Grace's behest, one was equipped with a bag for her knitting. In this, both learned the fine art of compromise.

The other larger room at the back of the house was converted into a large library. While there were not many books to include at the beginning, Snape was learning to appreciate Grace's taste for books that made one think, as well as amuse with their storytelling. The shelves were sturdy oak wood, hand-painted ebony and recessed into the walls. A pair of desks were acquired...a larger and opulent one for Snape; a smaller, more regal one for Grace. Aiden's desk was a table in the middle of the place, with all that he'd need.

Off the library, which would be decorated in rich blues and silvers, was the basement entrance. This was to be Snape's laboratory, and strictly off-limits to Aiden, unless he was under the supervision of an adult.

The rooms upstairs were to be bedrooms, all four. Grace's room was at the top of the stairs, Aiden's room next to hers. At the end of the hall was Snape's. The remaining room was converted into a guest bedroom, available to rent.

While it took a great deal of time and a pretty Galleon, the home was soon fixed up.

There was just one more thing Snape wanted to add...but for the moment, it would need to wait.


End file.
